PART 1
“Don’t cry like that, Abigail. I’m leaving for us, not to get away from you,” Brandon Vance said with impeccable calm.
He spoke as if he were just going out to buy bread and not saying goodbye for two years at Gate 4 of Salt Lake City International Airport. He was wearing a navy blue coat, carrying a brand new leather suitcase, and holding his cell phone face down in his hand.
Abigail looked at him with teary eyes, appearing completely devastated in front of the crowd.
That was exactly what he expected to see.
For months, Brandon had repeated the exact same story about how an engineering firm had hired him to oversee projects in Vancouver. He insisted that the extraordinary salary and temporary sacrifice would secure their financial future together.
However, Abigail already knew that there was no real contract, no Canadian company, and no temporary apartment waiting for him.
There was only another woman.
Clarissa Bennett, thirty-three, worked at the accounting firm that handled the financial books for “Abigail’s Haven,” the home decor store Abigail had spent twelve years building. Clarissa knew everything about their corporate transactions, suppliers, and passwords, and she also knew Brandon far too well.
Three nights earlier, Brandon had carelessly left his laptop open while taking a quick shower. A notification popped up on the bright screen.
“Honey, remember to look sad in front of Abigail. The more she thinks you’re hurting to leave, the longer she’ll take to check the accounts,” the message read.
Then other messages arrived in rapid succession.
“London flight confirmed.”
“Boutique hotel paid for three nights.”
“As soon as we land, try to move what’s missing.”
And one final message was even worse.
“She’s far too naive. She’ll cry at the airport like an idiot and then wait for months.”
Abigail didn’t scream or confront him when she read those words. She simply sat down quietly and continued reading every single log.
For the next seventy-two hours, she stopped behaving like a clueless wife and began to think like the sole owner of her own life. She copied entire conversations, downloaded bank statements, photographed invoices, consulted a top lawyer, and hired a discrete private investigator.
She also confirmed that, since they were married under a strict prenuptial agreement, the house she had inherited from her late parents and the proceeds from a commercial property sold in Tucson remained entirely her personal property.
Meanwhile, she calmly prepared gourmet dinners for Brandon, asked him if he had packed enough warm clothes, and even bought him travel medicine for the long flight.
He truly thought he was brilliant.
“Are you really going to call me as soon as you land?” Abigail asked at the bustling airport, wiping away a fresh tear.
